Tuesday, September 17, 2013


I did MDMA. I remember the young girls when I was a teenager.

I was too shy to dance, too interested to go home.

Now I feel my age--on the cheek of the theory of the man-child, a tear rolls down, going nowhere.


A dead silence. A white hole occupies the center of my life.

Rays of sunlight whirling around on the stairs.

The sun is asleep; the afternoon is invariable.

Metallic reflections in the sand.


A stir in the moist and not very mobile air,

I can hear female insects crossing paths.

I want to kill myself, join a sect ;

I want to make a move, but it would be useless.


In 5 hours at the latest the sky will be all black ;

I'll wait for morning crushing flies on my computer keyboard.

Darkness simmers like a million little mouths ;

And morning returns, white and dry, without hope.

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